


The Chosen

by Ink_Filled_Dreams



Series: The Game [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood, Did I mention spoilers?, Killing, Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Like Lots, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder Mystery, Spoilers, companion to The Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Filled_Dreams/pseuds/Ink_Filled_Dreams
Summary: What went through the killers heads after they were chosen by Indigo?[Companion to The Game. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD, PLEASE READ THE GAME FIRST!]
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Liu Yang Yang/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Series: The Game [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772347
Comments: 22
Kudos: 53





	1. Chenle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read The Game yet, this litterally spoils all of the deaths/killers, which ruins the whole point of the story, so read that first, please.
> 
> I've had every murder planned out in my head ever since day one, and I thought it would be fun to give an inside view on what the killers did and what they were thinking, since I couldn't really include that in the actual story. It would've been too complicated and would've killed the natrual flow of the plot.
> 
> I tried my best not to mess with the canon of my story, so if you notice any inconsistancies let me know! I do check thoroughly before posting, so hopefully it's good :)

Jisung fideted at Chenle’s side, wringing a blanket between his hands. Chenle wished there was something he could do to soothe his friend’s nerves, but what could he do? Tell Jisung that the killer wouldn’t hurt him?

While Chenle could confirm that, he knew Jisung would ask how he knew for certain, and Chenle wouldn’t be able to respond.

So Chenle kept quiet, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair until he relaxed.

Lucas had made a nest of sorts for them on the floor, a pile of blankets and pillows so they could be comfortable while they watched the door. Lucas had originally insisted on staying up alone, but neither Jisung nor Chenle would let him, but for different reasons.

Jisung wanted to keep him company. Chenle wanted an alibi.

Lucas had fallen asleep first, snoring gently with his head resting against the wall behind them. The sound usually helped calm Chenle down during the nights he couldn’t sleep, but not this time. Nothing could calm him down tonight.

Chenle had a plan, a very simple one. He closed his eyes, letting his breathing even out until it sounded like he was asleep. Nighttime seemed like the safest time, where everyone was asleep and no one could prove that he was missing.

Eventually, Jisung dozed off as well, slumped against Chenle’s shoulder. As carefully as he could manage with his shaking hands, Chenle lifted Jisung’s head so he could crawl out from between the two of them, and then propped Jisung up against a stack of pillows so he wouldn’t wake.

Chenle tiptoed out of the room, holding his breath until he was safely out of the room with the door closed behind him.

The school seemed eerie at night, fully dark other than the moonlight that crept in through the windows. Chenle waited until he reached the stairs to turn on the flashlight on his phone, not wanting to alert anyone else that might still be awake to his presence.

He felt like a bandit as he snuck into the kitchen, his heart beating like a jackhammer against his ribs. He took one of the medium sized knives, sliding it up his sleeve in case someone else was up and saw him. Chenle regularly got up to get something to eat in the middle of the night, so it wouldn’t be hard to come up with a story if he were caught.

Thankfully, he didn’t run into anyone on his way to the bathroom. Chenle didn’t know how good of a liar he could be when his life depended on it, and he didn’t want to find out.

Chenle chose the bathroom across the hall from his room, not wanting to draw suspicion by committing the crime close to his room. He paced in a circle for a good twenty minutes, his thoughts a tangle of worries and doubts.

What if Jisung or Lucas woke up and saw that he was missing? What if no one came to the bathroom, then what? He didn’t have a backup plan.

He debated going back to his room, so he could hide his knife and try again later, but then he heard it. Footsteps.

Chenle just barely had time to grab a paper towel - to pretend he had been washing his hands and not just standing around, for one, and also to hide the knife in his hand.

The door opened, and Chenle’s breath caught.  _ Of course it had to be Jaehyun! How am I supposed to overpower him? _

“Oh, I didn’t know there was someone else in here,” Jaehyun said, voice groggy. He must’ve woken up recently, based on how unsteady he was on his feet. “Why are you over here?”

Oh, right. This was the bathroom on the  _ right  _ side of the hall, not the left, where Chenle’s room was. It made no sense for him to be here. “I thought I heard someone in there, and I got nervous, so I came over here,” he lied.

Jaehyun nodded, his expression softening. “I get it. I’m worried, too. If you want, I can walk you back to your room once I finish using the bathroom, if that would help you feel safer?”

“That would help,” Chenle said, feigning gratefulness. “Thank you.”

He threw the paper towel away as Jaehyun disappeared into a stall, brandishing his knife like how he’d seen killers do in the movies. Before Jaehyun had the chance to fully close the door, Chenle forced it open, covering Jaehyun’s mouth with one hand as he shoved the knife as deep into Jaehyun’s gut as he could.

It was rushed, and sloppy, and Jaehyun’s shout could still be heard around Chenle’s hand, poorly muffled, but it was good enough. Chenle didn’t know how many times you had to be stabbed to die, so he repeated the motion over and over, until Jaehyun’s eyes had gone dull and something warm and sticky seeped onto his hand.

Chenle jerked back, and Jaehyun crumbled to the floor, his shirt stained with blood. Chenle stepped back, choking out a sob as he looked at the body of his first ever murder victim.  _ My first, and my last,  _ he promised himself as he kicked off his shoes, which were covered in blood.

He hadn’t expected the mess. The blood got everywhere, covering his pajamas and hands. He felt nauseous just looking at it.

An idea struck him then, as he stood in the middle of the bathroom. He took off his shirt and wiped up some of the excess blood, then smudged it on the floor and mirror, making it look like Jaehyun had been killed out in the middle of the bathroom and then moved. It would draw suspicion to someone stronger, like Johnny or Xiaojun.

Once he was satisfied with his fake crime scene, Chenle stripped off everything that had blood on it, and wrapped it in one of the spare towels stacked up by the shower. He washed the blood from his arms and the little bit that had got on his neck, scrubbing until his skin felt raw. He rushed back to his room to hide the evidence under his bed, stepping lightly as he did so.

Jisung and Lucas were still asleep, exactly as they were when Chenle left them. He changed into pajamas, silently hoping they wouldn’t notice that he had changed, and crawled back into the space next to Jisung, falling asleep almost instantly once he had settled in, the familiar scent of his fruity shampoo calming Chenle’s racing heart.

-

The next morning was the worst part. Having to pretend to be clueless as Jisung asked about who Chenle thought the killer might be as they got dressed, and then having to go through breakfast just  _ knowing  _ that someone was going to notice Jaehyun’s absence any minute was pure torture.

Chenle was grateful that Jisung had been against joining in the investigation, since it gave him an excuse to not participate as well. The two of them sat in their room as Lucas went out to look for clues, same as everyone else.

Chenle knew he had to find a new place to hide his bloody clothes and the knife, but he couldn’t now, because Jisung was with him.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though no one else seemed to notice how strangely he was acting - Chenle could tell he was being weird, he was never this quiet - Jisung caught on, because of course he did. They were best friends, they knew each other better than anyone else.

“Le, is there something you want to tell me?” Jisung asked as they sat next to each other on the floor, in the makeshift fort they had yet to pick up.

Chenle trusted Jisung not to snitch, and he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer, so the words started pouring out. Pouring out like Jaehyun’s blood all over his hands.

“It’s me,” he said in a rushed whisper as he dug out his phone. “Indigo picked me. I didn’t want to kill anyone, I really didn’t, but I had to. Here’s the text, see? He threatened to kill us all if I didn’t do it. I’m sorry, please don’t hate me,” he begged as Jisung looked the text over, the text Chenle had memorized.

_ Congrats on being picked first, Teal! I’m so jealous! Remember: you’ve got exactly twenty four hours, so be quick about it. If you miss the deadline, or choose not to play along, then I’ll have no choice but to end the game early, and that means removing all of the players. You get it, don’t you? What a boring way to end, huh? Don’t disappoint me! _

He could see it in his eyes that Jisung wasn’t really reading it, more like staring at it, trying to process Chenle’s confession. Chenle held his breath, waiting to be smacked and then turned over to Taeyong. He deserved it of course, but he didn’t want Jisung to be the one to do it.

He didn’t care if the rest of the world despised him, but he couldn’t bear it if Jisung turned his back on their friendship.

Jisung looked stunned, but not as repulsed as Chenle thought he would. After a few seconds of sitting as still as stone, Jisung scooted closer to him, wrapping his arms around Chenle, pulling him in a hug that Chenle knew he didn’t deserve.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell,” Jisung promised. “Did you...where is the knife? Did you hide it?”

Chenle nodded. “Under the bed.”

“What if they search our rooms? You need to move it, quickly,” Jisung said, standing up. He pulled open his dresser and pulled out a black sweatshirt. “Here, wear this. The hood is long, and it’ll hide your face. If you get blood on it, you can take it off and hide it as well. There are dozens of empty classrooms, no one will check them. Go, hurry,” he urged, and Chenle jumped to his feet as well.

He kept to the wall, stepping as quietly as he could. He knew Jisung would back him up if anyone asked where he had been, and just knowing that he had his friend’s support gave him the courage to keep walking.

He heard a pair of footsteps retreating down the stairs, which was always a good sign. Now, all he had to do was sneak down without being seen, and then-

Someone turned the corner just then, bumping into Chenle hard enough to send him stumbling back. For an awful millisecond, Chenle thought he had been caught, that this was the end, and then without thinking he grabbed the knife from on top of his stack of bloody clothes. It was buried up to the hilt in the other man’s stomach within a second.

It was then that Chenle recognized him. In his panic, he hadn’t got a good look at his face, but now he could see it clearly.

Chenle had been holding it together up until then, but he couldn’t help but cry when he saw the look of betrayal and pain on Lucas’s face.

Lucas had been like a big brother to him, and Chenle was repaying him by stabbing him.

“Did you…” Lucas stated, voice weaker than Chenle had ever heard before. “Is he…” he coughed, falling to his knees. “Is he…” he tried again, but the life was already fleeing from his eyes, even quicker than Jaehyun’s had.

Chenle wanted it to stay, but it was too late now.

Lucas grabbed at his arm, his grip weak. Then he fell to the ground, exactly like Jaehyun. Chenle wiped the tears from his eyes, knowing he didn’t have time to sit and cry. He didn’t deserve to cry, anyways. It was his fault they were dead.

He managed to slip past the others, hide all of the evidence, and get back to his room without being spotted.

Jisung was waiting, now perched on the edge of Lucas’s bed.

Chenle crawled into his arms as soon as he saw him, his heart aching when he realized that he’d have to be the one to tell Jisung.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I did it again.”

“Did someone see you?” Jisung asked, rubbing comforting circles on Chenle’s back. Chenle nodded, fighting back tears.

“It was Lucas,” he whispered hoarsely.

Jisung didn’t say anything, just held Chenle close, letting him hide from reality for as long as he needed.

-

_ So you’re the first one to be executed, huh? How special! I wonder how the others feel about what you’ve done...you should’ve tried harder, and maybe you could’ve gotten away with it! Too late now, how sad :( _

Chenle glared at the message he was met with once the door was closed behind him. He  _ could’ve  _ gotten away with it, because Jisung had been willing to sacrifice himself, but Chenle never would have let him go through with it.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, Jisung,” he said out loud, setting a hand against the wall. He walked until he made his way to the farthest corner. He had no doubt this room was meant to kill him, and he didn’t want to be in the way of anyone else that came in after him.

He sank to the floor, his eyes watering as he thought about how badly Jisung must be holding up. He had been a loyal friend up until the end, definitely much better than Chenle deserved. He shouldn’t cry over someone like Chenle, but he would.

The darkness swallowed up his quiet sobs as Chenle waited for his upcoming execution. What would happen to him? Would blades come out of the wall and impale him? Would he starve to death?

Chenle didn’t have to wait long to find out, because within the next couple minutes he smelt it, bittersweet in the air.

He inhaled deeply, the gas burning as it was sucked into his lungs.

This was too peaceful a death for a murderer, but he was grateful for it.

He just hoped that if Jisung died, it would be as peaceful as this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this bonus chapter! I'll write one for each killer, so Mark is next! They aren't too difficult to write, since I have each scenario planned out already, it's just a matter of getting them written down and then cross-referencing the original story to make sure I don't mess with the canon.
> 
> I have the next chapter of The Game nearly finished, it should be out within a day or so!


	2. Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Mark hadn’t been all that surprised when he got a text that night. He had been bracing himself for it ever since the game started, so he hardly even registered it until the next morning during breakfast.

Oh. He’d have to kill someone.

He didn’t put too much thought into it. The more sporadic it was, the less likely they’d notice a pattern, and the less likely they’d predict it, right? Yuta and Taeyong had been on high alert ever since Jaehyun’s death, and recently Renjun had begun to play detective along with them. Mark wasn’t sure he could outsmart all three of them.

The opportunity fell into his lap during lunch, when he found himself sitting at a table with Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin. At first, he had only meant to eat with them. Jisung wasn’t the best cook out of all of them, but his kimchi was still good, and Mark was hungry.

And then Jisung mentioned Taeil, and then things changed.

He did his best to act normal throughout the rest of the meal, but his performance seemed lacking, at least in his eyes. His smiles were too fake, his words too stiff.

“Why did you come alone?” Jaemin asked. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

Mark’s mind when blank at that, his words getting stuck in his throat. What could he say?  _ ‘I was looking to find someone alone so I could kill them’?  _ No way could he tell the truth, so he said the first lie that came to mind.

“Well, I don't want to make him sound bad or anything,” he started. “But Johnny has been acting kind of strange. Not like I think he's trying to kill me or anything, he's just being weird." He winced internally as soon as the words left his mouth. Why was he trying to make his best friend look guilty?

“You can stay with us if you like,” Jaemin offered kindly, easily buying his story.

Mark relaxed at. He was certain they’d notice how tense he was, how long he had hesitated. Hopefully they had chalked it up to him being hesitant to accuse his close friend.

He was glad when Jaemin changed the subject to the topic of their colors, because that was something Mark didn’t have to lie about, and Mark was a bad liar.

The conversation shifted, and then they were talking about Indigo, and Mark found the traitorous words pouring from his mouth without his consent: “No one has died yet, right? Maybe it was just a one time thing. Maybe the killer boycotted, and the killing is done.”

It had been a risky thing to say on his part, but no one seemed to notice. Jisung stopped crying, giving him a grateful, trusting smile. Rather than make Mark feel better, it made him feel sick.

Offering to do the dishes was a bit out of character for him, but Renjun didn’t question him. No one did. They couldn’t really believe his act, right? They knew, they had to. They were playing along, trying to catch him in the act.

It didn’t matter if they were, because Mark didn’t have a choice. It was his life or Taeil’s, and Mark was selfish.

Taeil had his back to the door when Mark walked in. He turned to give Mark a welcoming smile, looking up from whatever he was working on - Mark was too focused on the back of his neck to notice. He managed a stiff nod in response, setting the dishes on the counter as he took a careful step closer.

If he hesitated or was sloppy, he’d be caught for sure.

He covered Taeil’s mouth first, firmly so he couldn’t call for help. His other arm wrapped around Taeil’s neck, pressing against his throat until he felt Taeil start to gasp against his hand, breath moistening his palm.

It didn’t take long before Taeil’s desperate grip on his arm to weaken, and he felt the body in his arms grow limp. Slowly, Mark lowered him to the ground, then let out a bloodcurdling scream, one the others were sure to hear. He knocked over the bowls, just for effect, watching as they shattered around his feet, the multicolored ceramic scattering as the pieces slid across the floor.

It was then that it sunk in, what he had done. No, correction, what he was  _ about  _ to do. Taeil was still alive, passed out but breathing just fine. He didn’t have time to second guess, or to feel guilty. Not now, at least.

Mark threw the door open, doing his best to look terrified. It was easy, seeing how that’s how he really felt. He didn’t even know himself anymore, and it scared him. He shouldn’t have been able to go through with that as easily as he had. What was wrong with him? “Taeil,” he gasped out, knowing he had to say something. He went for a panicked, melodramatic approach, and it worked.

He followed Renjun back inside, listening to his questions as he examined Taeil’s unconscious body. He didn’t do the best job, seeing as he didn’t even notice that Taeil was still breathing. It was easy to convince him to go after Jaemin, since he pretty much convinced himself.

He ran off, leaving Mark alone with Taeil. Mark took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and then finished the job while listening to Jisung’s hysterical sobs on the other side of the door.

Mark really was a monster.

-

Killing Taeyong had been a last minute decision. He didn’t like the way Taeyong looked at him, already branding him as guilty even without solid proof. Mark left his room with the excuse that he wanted to be alone, and both Johnny and Doyoung let him go, both saying they understood.

They didn’t, though. Unless they did, and they could see through his poorly masked intentions, and knew what he was about to do.

The thought made Mark feel queasy.

He found Taeyong in the library, his back to Mark, same as Taeil had been. Taeyong had a couple inches on Taeil, but that shouldn’t make much a difference, right?

Mark stopped a few yards back. Taeyong was a good friend to Mark, and he was the leader of their group. If he died, would they fall apart? Would someone else take his place?

Mark didn’t have time to dwell on that thought, because he had seen Yangyang and Jungwoo walking around earlier, and if they saw him anywhere near the library after killing Taeyong they’d know it was him. Half the group already suspected him.

He used the same technique as before, only this time he moved quicker, more sure in his movements as he strangled his friend to death.

Taeyong fought back a lot harder than Taeil had, and Mark nearly lost his grip, but he knew he couldn’t afford to let Taeyong go, not after coming this far. He eventually stilled, and Mark continued to hold him there, until he heard a sickening pop, felt something shift under his arm.

His stomach lurched, his lunch nearly coming back up, but he forced it back down. He had to get out, before he was caught.

He ran off to one of the empty classrooms, hiding from what he had done, and also from those that could potentially tie him to either murder.

This had to be a nightmare.

-

Mark sat in his chair, next to Johnny, who had accused just the day before. It had been a spur of the moment mistake, and he was forever grateful that it had never been taken seriously. Johnny had been a wreck ever since finding Jaehyun, and being accused of muder - or of being Indigo - wouldn’t help.

The back and forth on how Taeyong had been found and whether or not Mark could’ve killed Taeil in such a short time span went on for a bit, and then Hendery had mentioned seeing Jeno leave the kitchen, which started a whole new batch of accusations.

At first, that had seemed like a good thing. One more suspect meant it was less likely for them to pin the murders on himself.

But then Xiaojun, who sat quietly across the circle from him, began to get a funny look on his face. In the back of his mind, Mark partially processed what the others were saying. How Jeno couldn’t have done it, how Jisung had been alone when Taeyong died, how Haechan fiercely defended Mark despite what everyone else said. He heard it all, and yet his focus was on Xiaojun, who was staring back at him with a look of realization on his face.

Mark didn’t like that.

Ever so slowly, Xiaojun raised his hand, breaking eye contact with Mark in favor of staring at the carpeted floor. “You said it’s possible that Taeil might’ve passed out, right?” He asked, hesitant, and Mark felt his remaining hope of survival shatter, just like the bowls he had knocked onto the floor.

Yuta looked up, unaware of how his words crushed the boy across from him.

“It was Mark.”

It was over, Mark knew. He had been outsmarted, and he couldn’t bluff his way out this time. Still, he couldn’t relent. He didn’t want to die.

He tried to act calm, playing along as if he wasn’t ready to snap. His lungs burned, each breath feeling near impossible to take in. To his right, Johnny had moved away, as if accidentally brushing shoulders with him would somehow make him unclean.

And who knows, maybe it would. Mark was a killer, after all. He had done the unspeakable to two of his friends, and then acted innocent, as if he had never laid a finger on either of them. Mark was a liar. Mark was revolting, even in his own eyes.

All he could do was listen as Yuta carefully pulled apart every lie and weak alibi he had set up for himself, tearing down his story and exposing him as the killer with terrifying ease.

Yuta was his friend. His close friend. How could he be so cruel to him? Even after all Mark had done, surely there was some compassion there? Why go to such lengths to destroy his image before sending him to his death?

His heart ached painfully in his chest at the understanding that Yuta no longer viewed him as a friend. It was agonizingly clear in his eyes, the betrayal and revulsion, the way he no longer viewed Mark as worth his loyalty, much less his affection.

“It wasn’t me,” he found himself saying, clinging onto the nonexistent hope that they’d believe him. “I found Taeil, I swear. Jisung killed him.”

He could feel the eyes on him, sense the disgust in them. He was begging now, and that was just pathetic. He couldn’t even go out with dignity.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t want to. None of us resent you,” Haechan said, trying to comfort him, but the hand on his knee made his throat tighten, and his words made Mark feel worse. They all resented him, except for Haechan, who still gave his usual, warm smile.

Haechan still loved him. Yuta may not, Johnny may not, and neither would Taeyong if he were still alive, but Haechan did, and he’d cherish that for as long as he had left.

When he stood, ready to meet his fate, Haechan stopped him, grabbing his arm with a vice-like grip that hurt, but Mark apprenticed it. It would be the last time someone touched him, after all. He was grateful for the slight pain, because it meant he was still alive to feel it.

“What if you don’t go?” Haechan asked, his voice full of despair.

Mark shook his head. The thought was tempting, but he knew he couldn't. It would only bring Indigo’s wrath down on them all, and they didn’t deserve that. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble. Just…” he closed his eyes. “Try not to die, okay Haechan?”

At least one good soul should make it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, since Mark's kills weren't as complex. I wanted to focus more on the stress he was under trying to act normal, since that seems like something he'd struggle with. Also, looking back, I realized how badly Yuta's betrayal had to have hurt him. They're so close, and yet Yuta is the one that pretty much sentenced him to death. I'm so cruel to them :(


	3. Kun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extremely long wait! I had taken a break while I finished high school, and then I got stuck on the next chapter. I have a few issues with the story (specifically Indigo) but it's too late in the story for me change certain things, so I haven't working on it much. I'm not dropping it, and I think I've worked things out enough for me to work on the next chapter, but for now all I have is this! Hope you enjoy :)

This was the one thing he had been dreading, ever since day one. He could live with being the one to bring the bodies of his loved ones to lay together in their makeshift gravesite, and he could live with cleaning up their blood. He could even live with sending one of their own to death, because that wasn’t only his fault, it was all of theirs.

He had no way to excuse this, though. Whoever he chose to kill, it was all on him. Their blood would be on his hands.

He gripped his sheets in a white knuckle grip, his breath coming out ragged as he pictured the looks of disgust he’d get once they found out what he had done. And they would figure it out, because both Renjun and Yuta had caught on terrifyingly fast.

He didn’t want to die, but he wanted to kill even less. It was one or all, though, and Indigo had made that painfully clear. If he refused to play along, then the game would end, but not in the way he wanted.

Haechan had already rolled over, his phone turned off and left on the bedside table. He must feel relieved, knowing he hadn’t been chosen. If only Kun could feel the same way.

-

He knew the others trusted him. He had never done anything to cause the others to doubt him. Though it hadn't been intentional, he could use it to his advantage.

He didn’t like thinking like that, but he had no choice. Not at this point in the game.

It wasn’t until breakfast that he figured out how he was going to do it. When Doyoung had brought up the idea of them having a check in time, it all fell into place. He’d know where everyone was going, and with who, and he’d have an alibi too, as long as he didn’t slip up.

Yangyang was the first one to go off alone, telling them he was going to the pool, and after flashing them a warm smile, he left.

 _Someone else go off alone, please,_ Kun internally begged, but the others stayed where they were, still chatting idly. He didn’t have time for that.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” Kun said.

“Yeah, I will, too,” Johnny said. “See you guys later.”

Kun watched him leave, debating for just a moment whether or not it would be worth it to go after him, but Johnny would put up a fight, and he’d undoubtedly be heard if he tried to subdue him in his room. So Kun went up to his room and grabbed out a swimsuit, and then went down to the pool.

-

By the time Kun dragged himself out of the pool, his limbs were aching and his eyes stinging with both tears and chlorine. He avoided looking at the figure on the other end of the pool, not wanting to be reminded of what he had done.

In ideal circumstances, he would’ve sat and mourned, but he didn’t have time for that. He couldn’t show up to check in with wet hair, and he still had to hide the evidence.

He took Yangyang’s phone from on top of his pile of clothes and went into the locker room, checking to make sure the door was locked for the fourth time that day before he turned on the blowdryer. Suddenly everything seemed too loud - the dyer, the hum of the air conditioning, the sound of his own breathing. He would be heard, he knew it.

But no one showed up, not even when he accidentally slammed his locker door open.

He stuffed his damp towel and swim trunks inside, then double checked to make sure his hair wasn’t noticeably wet. He didn’t have much time, and he couldn’t be late, or it would make him look even more suspicious.

He managed to arrive early, getting there before most of his classmates.

It didn’t take long for Xiaojun to start fidgeting, noticing something was off before the others did. Kun couldn’t look him in the eye. He hated himself for what he had done, and seeing the distress in Xiaojun’s eyes made the guilt even worse.

“It’s been too long,” Xiaojun eventually said, breaking the silence. “Are you sure he's really swimming? It's been two hours, he should be done by now.” He turned to Hendery, eyes pleading. “Can we go check on him, please?”

Despite Johnny and Hendery’s reassurances, Xiaojun grew increasingly panicked at the minutes ticked by. When Doyoung suggested they go check on him, Xiaojun was the first to jump out of his chair, nearly knocking it over.

Renjun began questioning those that had known where Yangyang was, as expected, and Kun felt his stomach turn. This kid would be the death of him, literally. Kun didn’t know if he could come up with a believable alibi, and Renjun would see right through it regardless.

Hearing Xiaojun call out for his friend pulled painfully at Kun’s heart, tearing a little bit more at his chest. He forced down the guilt as best he could, but it was impossible to block it out completely. Kun was a murderer now, and he’d never stop feeling remorse over what he had done. Maybe it would be better to be caught, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could live with what he had done.

Seeing Yangyang’s body brought back the memories from before, vivid enough to steal Kun’s breath for a second. He could still feel the way he thrashed around, feel the dull ache from Yangyang had kicked him. He could feel the way Yangyang went limp in his arms, giving up and letting the water consume him. He remembered the way he let out one final breath before going still.

“We can’t just leave him here,” Doyoung said hoarsely.

Kun knew two things. First of all, he was always the first one to offer to help. If he didn’t, they’d know something was wrong. Secondly, his hair was still a bit wet, and sooner or later, once the shock wore off, someone would notice.

“I can get him. I might need help, though.”

“I can,” Ten offered, and Kun gave him a grateful, stiff nod. For now, he was fine. He was playing along with the role he had set up for himself, and no one suspected a thing.

Once Yuta and Renjun found a suspect, he’d play along, trying to frame them as best he could. Everything would work out.

-

With the death of Yangyang still so fresh in everyone’s minds, Kun hadn’t expected the topic of finding Indigo to come up, but it did. Kun tried not to fidget, not wanting to give away how antsy he felt. His towel was still stuffed in his locker - he hadn’t had time to move it yesterday - and any time now someone could go searching for clues.

 _I should’ve hid it somewhere else, my locker is too obvious,_ he thought regretfully, wringing his hands together. No, he had to stop. He couldn’t look nervous.

Eventually, Kun had enough. He couldn’t stand sitting and listening to the arguing while incriminating evidence was still laying out.

“This isn’t helping us find the killer,” he said, pushing himself off the wall. “We can discuss this another time. Right now, I’m going to search the pool area and see if I can find anything.”

He doubted anyone would want to join him, and sure enough, no one made a move to follow when he started to walk.

“Wait!” Jaemin called, and his heart plummeted. Cold dread crept up his spine, turning his blood to ice. He couldn’t have Jaemin follow him. Technically, he still had another kill - Indigo allowed two - but just one was too much for him to deal with. He’d never touch another soul, even if it meant exposing himself. Luckily for him, Jaemin didn’t stand up. He just looked at Kun with wide, innocent eyes, completely oblivious to the monster Kun really was.

Kun felt sick.

“Can you tell us your color first?” Jaemin asked.

Kun could’ve told the truth, but he still remembered the threat hanging over him, so he picked one he knew no one else could claim, because its owner was gone.

“Maroon.”

-

The trial had been the one thing Kun thought he couldn’t face. How could he keep a straight face while hearing the others discussed Yangyang’s death? He thought he would break down, end up giving himself away by bursting into tears halfway through, but he didn’t.

All he felt was rage, both at himself and at the one that forced him into this situation. _Yangyang deserved better._

Seeing how wretched Xiaojun looked, Kun almost wished he had gone after Johnny, even with the risks.

He couldn’t even muster up a shred of anger when Xiaojun accused him, simply because he pitied him so much.

“Yangyang was like a little brother to me,” he found himself saying. It was true, he had been very close with Yangyang. That’s why he hadn’t wanted Yangyang to see it was him, why he had been so careful to grab him from behind. He didn’t want to see the betrayal in Yangyang’s eyes. “I know it doesn’t sound like much,” he continued. “But I wouldn’t have hurt Yangyang.”

 _Lies,_ a voice hissed in his ear. _Liar. Liar._

The blame turned to Johnny next, who was the prime suspect so far. Kun could work with that. He knew he held a lot of influence over the group.

Johnny seemed strangely calm as he defended himself, and that made Kun nervous.”I couldn’t have done it,” he explained. “I was in my room, and I never had wet hair or clothes. Did you find any of my stuff when you checked the pool, Kun?”

His eyes glittered darkly, too focused and too knowing. Kun snarled, going defensive. What did Johnny know? Surely he didn’t know anything. He couldn’t, Kun had hid everything, played the role of a level headed detective along with Renjun, kept everything as normal as he could. He had manipulated them all, even Johnny. Right?

“No, I didn’t. Whoever killed Yangyang must’ve hid the evidence before I got there,” he answered, hiding his rising panic with a voice as smooth as butter. “Can you _prove_ you were in your room? Was anyone else with you?”

Johnny’s smile cracked, his eyes uncertain. _Perfect._

He was getting too in character, too wrapped up in his role. He was scaring himself.

The conversation went on, and Kun found himself becoming more confident as they went in circles, unable to pin it on anyone. They didn’t know. He had won, hadn’t he?

“Guys, let’s think about this logically, okay?” Renjun eventually said, cutting in when Kun and Johnny started to argue once more. “I know it’s your lives at risk, but the more you lash out the guiltier you look. I think we need to figure out who would’ve had the time to hide their stuff first, since that’s our biggest clue so far.”

They wouldn’t be able to figure it out, right? They thought Kun was helping. They trusted him.

“How do we even know they hid their stuff after killing Yangyang?” Ten asked.

When Yuta started talking, he sounded defeated, unsure. “If he had gone in the pool after Yangyang, which is what it looks like, then he would’ve had to use a towel. Not to mention a swimsuit, but we found neither in the locker rooms, and no one saw anyone carrying them around, so the killer must’ve hid them and come back for them later.”

No one said anything at first, probably trying to wrack their brains for a time when someone had been missing for long enough to move the evidence.

And then Xiaojun looked up, his lips quirking up into a half smile. “Guys,” he started with a giggle, even as his eyes welled with tears. “We’re so dumb. The answer has been obvious, we’re just overcomplicating things.”

Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, Kun’s chest tightened. Xiaojun had figured it out. He saw past Kun’s act, and that meant Kun hadn’t won at all.

“Xiaojun,” Hendery said, setting a hand on his shoulder. Xiaojun stopped laughing.

“Only one person went off to the pool by themselves,” he said quietly, voice now bitter. “He’s been acting like he’s helping, trying to find out who killed Yangyang, but all he’s been doing is turning us on Johnny.”

“You’re saying it’s Kun?” Jisung asked, confused. “But he’s put so much effort into finding the killer…”

“He always does,” Xiaojun said, looking at Kun with so much hate it took Kun’s breath away. That was what he had been afraid of. “If he didn’t this time, he’d look suspicious,” Xiaojun continued. “Everyone would know it was him right away. We all trust him, and since he usually goes out of his way to help after someone dies, we didn’t question him when he went to the pool by himself.”

Kun was sure his face had gone sickly gray, because he felt like all his blood had rushed to his toes at that minute. Was this what it felt like to know you’re going to die?

Everyone would vote for him. He couldn’t defend himself, not when it was so blatantly obvious. They’d never believe him, he’d just make a fool out of himself if he tried.

When the projector turned on, Kun couldn’t read it. He tried, but he couldn’t focus. All he saw were the words _Kun was the killer_ jumping out at him, taunting him.

When he stood, he felt the ground sway, but he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t beg for the others to forgive him. He’d go with dignity, because really, it was what he deserved.

“It may not mean anything at this point, but I'm truly sorry for killing Yangyang,” he said, his words aimed at Hendery and Xiaojun, who were both clinging to each other for dear life, their trio now cut down to two.

Xiaojun shut his eyes, practically shaking. “Don’t say his name ever again,” he whispered, and Kun swallowed back a sob.

“Can we have his phone back? I know the killer took it. Please, we...we have a lot of photos with him on there,” Hendery asked, holding out his hand. Kun handed it to him, knowing that they were the ones that should have it. They see his texts eventually and know that Kun had lied about his color, but he’d be long gone by then.

Kun didn’t expect Hendery to stand in front of him, and he really didn’t expect for him to hold out his hand, his eyes warm.

“I just want you to know…” He started, his bottom lip quivering. “I forgive you.”

Kun took his hand numbly, not sure what to say. Hendery shouldn’t forgive him. He should be spitting after him as he walked to his death. But instead he was offering up his hand, forgiving him without Kun even apologizing first. It took all his strength not to break down right there.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He couldn’t express his gratitude, and he wouldn’t try to.

He held it in until the door closed behind him, and then he let out a wail, everything inside of him hurting as he sobbed and sobbed, his entire body shaking so hard he could barely stand.

He didn’t know if the room was soundproof, but he desperately hoped it was. He sounded pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, choking on his own words. “I’m sorry, Ya-”

_“Don’t say his name ever again.”_

Kun stopped himself. He’d respect Xiaojun’s wishes, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything to make up for the pain he had caused.

_Kun was the killer._

He covered his mouth, trying to stifle the noise as he whimpered.

_Kun was the killer._

“Please kill me fast,” he begged out loud.

_Kun was the killer._

Head spinning, Kun fell to his knees. He didn’t know what was happening, but his fingers had started to feel numb. Had he been poisoned? Kun smiled, the dark room feeling like it was spinning around him, lights flickering around the corner of his vision.

He felt himself fall, but he never felt when he hit the floor.


End file.
